


Nothing so Beautiful

by Camfield



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Prowl/Ironhide - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing so beautiful as this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing so Beautiful

There was nothing more beautiful than this. 

Ironhide was holding himself up by one servo, watching with arousal dim optics as Prowl shifted and moved beneath him. His digits plunging into the mech over and over, soaked in lubricant and diving in to gather more each time. Raking them over nodes, playing with sensor clusters and stretching the rim out when he added a third in. The way Prowl’s chassis arched up just barely telling him all he needed to know.

The mech never reacted like others did, but he never needed to. Ironhide could tell how revved up he was from the quiet, shuddering vents. The way his frame moved against the veteran’s touches, just enough to be seen, not enough to be wanton. It was just how the mech functioned. Always controlled, always efficient, even when his frame crackled with overcharge and his servos grasped Ironhide’s arms to keep him steady.

It was his. This was his, and no matter who else saw it, it would always be his. 

Prowl would always be his. 

His servo slowed, digits twisting just right to catch the posterior sensor he knew was more sensitive than the rest. Pressing against it, feeling the valve clench around him and a soft, barely there cry slip through kiss slicked lips. Watching as optics flared, feeling as the grip on his arms tightened and released. Each reaction spurring him on, because Ironhide was never satisfied when it came to Prowl. To this.

The pace slowed until he got a flash of annoyance through their meshed fields. Grinning in that way he knew put the black and white mech just on edge, because the weapons specialist had always prided himself on being just creative enough not to be predictable in berth and as much as Prowl tried to, it was the one place he could never fully tell what Ironhide was going to do.

And he used that, relentlessly.

Dipping to kiss along neck cables coated in condensation. Lips roving over the main energon line, glossa dipping between them to flick against the recessed vocalizer. Feeling the sounds that never made it into audible space, tasting the words that weren’t moaned but kept trapped and silent. All the while his digits worked deeper and deeper into Prowl’s valve, until he was stroking the tips over his ceiling node and feeling that frame tighten up against him in overload. Energy crackling against metal as he stilled his servo, waiting for the mech to come down. Waiting for the shuddered vent that signaled his readiness to continue, where digits began to move again and the flat of one black servo pressed against his chest. Prowl’s helm tipping back and optics dimming when the slow thrust of Ironhide’s digits stroked along sensors still dripping with charge.

There was a huff, and the red mech couldn’t help but chuckle. Pulling his digits from the silky mesh and up to his mouth. Tasting. Watching Prowl watch him, and unable to resist capturing those lips in a kiss. A kiss willingly reciprocated, one of the black and white’s servos moving down Ironhide’s own chassis to cup his still closed codpiece almost questioningly. 

After all, Ironhide wasn’t usually so singly focused like this, where he didn’t even extend his spike. Prowl looking at him and finding that expression that he couldn’t quite look away from on the mech’s face. Pushing himself up just a bit, so that he could kiss Ironhide, and letting one arm slide around his neck to pull him down.

Ironhide chuckled into the kiss, leaning into his partner and finally letting his panel slide aside. Just resting against the slighter frame, feeling the heat and the tang of electricity against his pressurized spike and reaching to help guide himself into a very ready valve. Groaning when it took him in easily, stroking up one white thigh and pressing it up and out just enough to let them come flush together.

A murmur against lips, how beautiful he looked like this, and Ironhide couldn’t help moving. Slow, deep thrusts that mimicked almost exactly what his digits had done just moments earlier. Hips driving him deep, aiming for the soft sounds that he knew came when he hit just right. Shifting until he felt the mech tense against him and arch his back, then thrusting in at that angle. Making sure that he hit that spot as many times as he could with Prowl shifting, even as minutely as it was, against him. Working Prowl until he got those small sounds. Bracing himself on his forearm, because he loved feeling metal on metal. Chassis pressed together so he could feel the thrum of systems and spark. Hitches in energy, pulses of it when Ironhide did something particularly pleasurable. As much as the mech controlled himself, that spark told him more than anything else what Prowl liked in the moment.

It was only when Ironhide pushed him into another overload that he let himself tip over as well. The surge of electric bliss making optics flare and thick jets of transfluid rope along the top of Prowl’s valve. Making them both shudder, though Ironhide’s was more pronounced, and his arm shook as he kept himself from falling down on his partner’s frame.

He laughed, a breathless sound, and gave slightly parted lips a soft kiss. Relaxing until his own legs could move again, releasing the pressure on that wide open leg to stroke the outside of it in apology. “Alright?”

Because they were both old, and sometimes felt it more than others. 

“I am fine, Ironhide.” Prowl paused a moment, “But if I may ask, what brought that on?”

The smaller mech shifted under Ironhide just a bit, enough that he moved to pull out (if a bit reluctantly) and reach for a rag to clean them up with. Prowl allowing the attention, only closing his panel when the red mech was completely finished, and shifting so that he was laying on his side, a much more comfortable position for recharge. 

“Ya were lookin’ pretty t’day.” The answer was said with a grin, and he closed up his own panel and settled against the berth, sliding an arm over the slim waist and pulling him as close as their frames allowed, “Couldn’t help mahself.”

If Prowl had been a lesser mech, he would have rolled his optics at that. Arguing, however, was something he’d learned had no effect on the weapon’s specialist. Still... “I see. Have you gotten your fill, then?”

Now that had Ironhide leaning in for a long kiss, one that travelled up to the bright red chevron adorning the mech’s helm. “Ain’t never gonna happen.”

After all, there wasn’t anything more beautiful than this.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was finger fucking I have no idea what happened.


End file.
